Shakespeare Boy
by Pink Apples
Summary: Roxas discusses his knowledge of literature with a rather unpoetic Axel. [Implied AxelRoxas, but can be interpretted as friendship]


**Shakespeare Boy**

There he was, like always, curled up on that hideous green couch with a sandwich-sized book in his lap. Axel always wondered if it ever hurt his neck to have it craned over for so long, the boy's eyes occasionally twitching from concentration while he continuously blew uncooperative strands of golden hair out of his face. His mouth was always set in a line, and occasionally he would set one cheek down upon his fist, while the elbow attached to said fist would prop itself up on the armrest, and it was then that Axel knew sleep was creeping up on his young friend.

Roxas, however, never seemed annoyed when the older man would approach and nudge him, bringing the late hour to the blond's attention. He would just shrug and fold over the side of a page to keep his place (he never used bookmarks), then stagger back to his room under the supervision of Number Eight. On one or two occasions Axel had to throw the boy over his shoulder like a burlap bag and carry him off to his room, due to the fact that his sleepiness left him running into things and tripping through the halls. It was a comical sight, really, but Axel would never tell him that.

Today was no different than any of the other days. Axel had been sitting in his usual armchair for a few hours now, fire dancing between his gloved fingers. The man never put too much effort into a finding a hobby after his missions for the day were complete. He occasionally did puzzles, but the Flurry of Dancing Flames was hardly ever seen reading, unlike the youth next to him.

Time didn't matter in The World That Never was, so rather than watch a clock, Axel instead observed Roxas's eyelids s-l-o-w-l-y begin to close. They were already half-lidded by the time the taller man stood, his heels clicking against the marble floors to break the lingering silence that had settled upon them hours ago. Roxas looked up, eyes wide open now, not to mention curious as those of an infant. Axel took a few steps toward him, hands on his hips and a faint smile plastered across his thin facial features.

"Alright, kid. Time to hit the sack," he informed Roxas smugly.

Roxas didn't budge. He continued to stare up at Axel with wide, curious eyes, as if he desperately wanted to ask something but was doubting the answer. Axel raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"I said come _on_, you moron. You better hurry up and haul that ass of yours back to your room - I'm _not_ carrying you up all those stairs like I did last week." That was a lie, and Axel knew it. If Roxas was so tired that he could lean against the wall and drift off in the middle of a hallway, Axel felt it was his obligation to at least get Number Thirteen to his bed. Sleep was important - Xemnas made that clear when he had explained the number of missions Roxas would have to perform daily. For whatever reason, the youth got more missions a day than the average member - even the older, experienced ones like Axel himself - and needed to be in tip-top shape at all times.

Roxas finally folded the side of his page over, closing the book. He looked back up at Axel, but still showed no signs of moving from his spot on the couch.

"Sorry. It's Shakespeare, and I find his works hard to put down," Roxas finally said, smiling faintly. He _still_ showed no signs of getting up, much to Axel's annoyance.

"Shakespeare, eh?" the elder asked, to receive a vigorous nod from the boy sitting in front of him. "I've read some Shakespeare before."

"Really?" Roxas perked up, face brightening with a wide smile. "What did you read? _Twelfth Night_? _King Henry V_?"

Axel shook his head, looking a bit embarrassed, which was extremely rare for the otherwise outgoing and loud man.

"Er, no. I read a bit of a more... popular play. Romeo and Juliet," he said quietly, hands falling to his sides from their place on his hips.

Roxas blinked, slightly surprised. Axel didn't seem like the romance kind of guy. Then again, he probably only read it for the swordfights anyway. It wasn't that Axel was violent by nature, but he would never turn down a battle when challenged. Roxas also noticed that Number Eight hated to lose a battle with another member - particularly those beneath him - and when he did, was often cross about it and would throw a fit. Roxas thought this was quite comical behavior coming from a grown man, over something so trivial as a friendly battle between members that usually only fought to keep in shape.

"Y'know," the boy began slowly, choosing his words as carefully as he could. "Romeo and Juliet had always been one of Shakespeare's more popular tragedies. It was performed in the Globe Theater all throughout the seventeenth century," he continued, gaining more confidence as he spoke, "-however, back in those times women were hardly ever part of the cast, so boys between the ages of ten and eighteen were often cast as Juliet." Roxas stopped himself, realizing that he was rambling. And not only was he rambling, but about a _romantic play_ to boot.

Axel blinked. Well, the kid certainly did know his literature!

"Well... er... that must have sucked," he concluded. It wasn't a horribly intelligent observation, he noted, but what did he care? Not like Number Thirteen would scoff at him like Zexion or Vexen was for "stating something so juvenile and obvious". No, the boy just looked up at him with unchanging wide eyes, blinking slowly to betray his drowsiness.

"...Why do you say that?" Roxas finally asked, leaning backwards till his spine rested against the back of the couch. Furniture in the castle was not particularly comfortable, and Roxas wasn't surprised when instead of his back sinking into a soft, pillowy embrace, rather felt like he was merely leaning against a hard surface.

"Well, I mean, if you're a teenage kid I wouldn't think it particularly cool to explain to your friends that you play the part of girls in romance plays," the elder chuckled, hands finding their way back to rest once more on his hips. "Besides, it would be weird. Onstage, I mean."

"Not really. It wasn't...like that. That's the beauty of Shakespeare, really, his characters express their love through words and poetry rather than physical actions," Roxas explained, eyes closing as he rested his cheek against his fist once more.

"Is that all you read every time?" Axel asked curiously, cocking one hip out, legs tired from standing so long and from the tiring mission he had completed earlier. It felt like all he did lately was _run_ from Heartless rather than _fight_ them. Their numbers were increasingly dramatically, and each day seemed longer than the last as the number of Heartless Axel was instructed to kill rose. He could only imagine how hard it was for the young blond resting in front of him.

Roxas's fingers drummed lazily on the hardcover surface of his book. He honestly didn't want to go to bed just yet, and stimulated his mind by staring at one of the tassels on Axel's leather cloak. It was identical to his of course, but he observed the minute design all the same, straining his tired eyes to see it better. An awkward silence settled over the two, Axel apparently still waiting for Roxas to move while Roxas so desperately willed himself not to.

"So..." Roxas spoke, looking up to meet Axel's impatient eyes. "...Did you like it?"

"Like what?"

"Romeo and Juliet!" Roxas exclaimed, sitting up straight.

"Oh. Er... it was all right. Definitely not my favorite," Axel shrugged, arms now crossing over his chest. Was this kid _ever_ going to go to bed? "Come on, you need sleep..." the elder sighed in frustration. But Roxas didn't show any signs of ending his interrogation of the redhead.

"Hang on, I'll go to bed in a second - what _do_ you read?" Roxas prodded, blinking rapidly to hide the drowsiness that droopy eyes betray.

"...Stuff," Axel responded with a lazy shrug.

"You're being really difficult," Roxas snapped, annoyed now.

Axel grinned.

"And _you're_ being a cranky little boy. Fine then. I read Joseph Conrad and Lord Byron," Axel's tone was harsh when he said thin, but his expression was smug and perhaps even cocky. He waved one hand dramatically towards the door.

"You've been here all afternoon. And until you learn how to teleport, you've gotta get to your room on your own," Number Eight snorted haughtily. "We have all the time in the world tomorrow to talk about literature, so do us both a favor and wait until then. I'm tired too, you know. And I swear to God, if I-"

"_Do not swear at all; Or if thou will, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee._" Roxas recited smugly, while standing and striding briskly past the older man. Axel rolled his eyes as the boy brushed past him, waiting before he disappeared beyond a corner to follow.

Sure enough, the moment Axel peeked his brightly-colored head around the corner of the wall, his eyes fell upon a very sleepy Roxas, currently slumped against the marble wall of the castle. With a smirk Axel approached him, and in one smooth movement had the boy gripped around the waist and slung over his back. Roxas's arms hung loosely down the elder's back, and though he was slightly awake he made no attempt to fight Number Eight. He was awake enough, in fact, to hear Axel's last words before sleep seized Number Thirteen for the next few hours.

"_Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow- that I shall say good night till it be morrow._"


End file.
